


Near To You

by nihlus



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, One Night Stands, Unrequited Love, but no sexual description, but not really, hints on there being a one night stand, you'll get it when you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihlus/pseuds/nihlus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows what it’s like in this line of work; high-stress, no time to have a proper lover on the side, no way to have a proper commitment. Having a relationship, a real relationship with a real future with someone, was difficult to say the least.</p><p>Arthur/Eames, okay I'll be honest I don't know what else to write here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near To You

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I get new songs. Was listening to A Fine Frenzy's Near to You, hence the title. Enjoy!

When he wakes in the morning, he looks out the window. It’s barely light, and he can just make out the cars on the street, greeting the new day. Eames turns away and stares at the ceiling. It’s an off-white colour; a safe, boring option. Were it up to him, he’d have taken a brush to it, adding colour to it, adding some life, splashing it with reds, greens, blues. 

But it isn’t his house. So it isn’t his choice.

He turns slowly so as not to wake Arthur, looking at his back. Pale skin, with streaks of silvery-white across his back. Scars from his previous jobs, presumably, healed, but never fading. He lets his finger trace the scars lightly, barely grazing Arthur’s soft skin. Warm, pliable, intoxicatingly soft. He wants to know just how Arthur got those scars, he wants to know who did that to him, and he wants t-

But it isn’t his place. 

Arthur stirs in his sleep slightly, murmuring to himself, and Eames lets his finger fall. He brings himself closer to Arthur, his hand resting on the small of his back. Eames takes in a deep breath, committing Arthur’s scent to memory. Better to enjoy what he can now, hold onto it, do what he can to make it last, to remember it all. Anything to make their night together last a little longer, even if it means nothing to Arthur.

He knows what it’s like in this line of work; high-stress, no time to have a proper lover on the side, no way to have a proper commitment. Having a relationship, a real relationship with a real future with someone, was difficult to say the least. Hell, it was difficult even without the jobs, let alone with, but that didn’t stop Eames from wondering what it’d be like. Throughout his life, he’d never really fallen in love with someone before; the people he’d been with previously? They were just quick shags. Quick fixes to the problem, but never a long-term solution.

But Arthur. _Arthur_ is someone different. Eames can't really put his finger on it, on what exactly is different about Arthur. He just _is_. He is simply _Arthur_ , so much better than anyone else, than everyone else, so goddamn perfect. Sometimes it drives Eames up the wall; that no one else in the world could compare with Arthur, that there was only one person for him in a sea of billions, only one person who could make him feel complete, make him feel important. And that one person Eames is so madly in love with would never fall in love with him. It was funny really; that the one person Eames could see as his long-term solution only sees him as a quick-fix. It always gets a bit of a wry smile from him, even as he feels the pain. On Arthur’s part at least, there were no feelings brought in on their night together.

_I’m not going into this with love._

It hurt.

_This isn’t love, am I clear?_

Crystal. And that was what hurt the most. Eames knew for himself that he was a broken man, but whenever he was with Arthur…he felt whole. He felt important, that he had a face past the numerous masks he wore, past all these different people he pretended to be. He was better whenever he was with Arthur. Sure, they fought, and hell, they would get into arguments in every waking moment, but Eames had never had that before. In this line, too many were interested in appeasing him; not many dared to oppose him. But Arthur didn’t need Eames’ approval, didn’t need him to live, and for some reason, it was appealing. For himself though, Eames knew he couldn’t live without Arthur. Somewhere somehow, he knew that Arthur knew it too.

_I’d always suspected, but I never called you out on it._

_Why not?_

_Because I’d be tempted to go after you, and I can’t do that._

There were times where Eames wished he could just pick Arthur up and go. But that’d be wrong. That’d be wishing you were in complete control over someone’s life, and no one liked that. No one liked to have someone lord over them and make every decision for them. He was sure Arthur would object to it, kicking and screaming. He’d thought about it though; pick Arthur up, and just bring him somewhere, living with each other till the end of their days.

He sinks back into the pillows as he feels Arthur wriggle away from his hand, a bit of an ache starting to settle in his chest again. He starts to reach over for Arthur again, but stops, and lets his hand barely fall short of Arthur’s fingertips. He feels a tear roll down his face, thankful that Arthur wasn’t facing him as he feels his throat start to choke him. Turning away to face the other direction, he curls inwards, watching the sunrise as the morning chill fills the room.

He’d never be in this bed, in Arthur’s bed again. He’d never be in the same room, the same house, even. When morning came, he felt a warm, firm hand settle on his shoulder. Arthur was up, shaking him awake. 

“You have to go.”

Eames nods curtly and sits up, fishing for his clothes on the floor, finger-combing his hair quickly. He hears footsteps, and turns his head, barely catching a glimpse of Arthur going to the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand as he walks back to Eames, half-dressed. “You got another job in two days, right? Better go prep for it.” He half-pushes the glass into Eames’ hand, and stands there, just looking at him.

He can only nod in response; what else was there to say? This was a no-strings attached, quick-fix moment. For him, for them, it didn’t matter anymore. “Cheerio, love,” he gets up and fixes his appearance in the mirror before stopping in front of Arthur, “and don’t get yourself into too much trouble if you can.” He grins widely, not caring that Arthur was breaking that mask down, and could see how Eames really felt. He said nothing, and cocked his head slightly to the door. 

“Love you darling,” Eames shouts as he almost struts out the door, slamming it behind him, his hands back in his pockets. As he walks away, his fingers are wrapped around his totem, and he pulls it out. Looking at it, it confirms all his suspicions. 

That though their night was real, it meant nothing. It was as though it had never happened. It was startlingly painful, and he felt like he’d been sucker-punched, that someone was laughing at him for trying to trick himself into believing it to be true. As Eames walked away, he had a smile on his face, a tear rolling down as he shoved his totem back into his pocket.

A man watches the love of his life walk away, and rolls his own die on the table. He looks at it, looks at the slowly disappearing figure, and can only hang his head as he sighs.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated! (: Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
